


Gin Cares

by FatalSmiles



Series: Seven Seas of Rye Whiskey [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breaky - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Drunk John, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Fingering, Flexibility, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Some angst, alcohol use, because what would my writing be without angst?, brian questioning his sexuality, graysexual john, handjob, maycon, mention of a past lover of Freddie's, sex press
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalSmiles/pseuds/FatalSmiles
Summary: June 1986. The band has released its 12th albumA Kind of Magicand is still rocking in the hubris that Live Aid has left behind. The band has just made it to Munich as part of their Magic Tour. John misses his wife and kids. And what’s worse is he’s horney and doesn’t know what to do about it. So he drinks and watchesThe Care Bears Movieto cope. Brian sees this and tries to help him sober up and feel better.





	Gin Cares

**Author's Note:**

> **Reference Images:**  
> [The Boys](https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/british-rock-group-queen-at-the-montreux-rock-festival-in-switzerland-picture-id109887355?s=612x612)  
> [Barbara](http://comunitaqueeniana.weebly.com/uploads/3/9/7/0/39701108/4629340_orig.jpg)  
> [Peter “Phoebe” Freestone](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/08/60/52/086052077224464b86974aa3c1457f8e.jpg) (behind Freddie)  
> There are many things about this fic that are historically accurate (see if you can pick them out!) However, this is, of course, an AU. Please take everything written here with a grain of salt and enjoy the ride.

It had been a long time since any of them had set foot in their house in Munich. Queen had bought it several years ago, back in the late 70’s. They had spent so much time abroad dodging taxes on their royal earnings that it seemed pertinent to make a few investments to help alleviate the issue: a studio located in Montreux Switzerland, and a house in Munich.

At the time none of them could think of any better location for a home. None of the locals could tell straight away that any of them were famous. It made for an easy time going out to clubs and having a bit of fun without being harassed. As such the city became an unspoken treasure among famous musicians; David Bowie and the like. It was rich in nightlife too. What wasn’t to love about Munich?

Now, after Live Aid, it seemed no matter where they went people knew them. Even here. Thank god no one knew about the house. It was like coming home to an old friend. They had arrived the night before with only one free day to themselves before the next concert, then the next, and then off to Zurich to do it all over again.

To John it was completely necessary to visit all the old haunts and get far too drunk last night. There would be too few chances to do it again in the future, he thought. The nostalgia he felt waking up the next morning still feeling slightly drunk gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. He rolled out of his bed just like he had so many times years before and made his way to the kitchen.

John remembers those days with a mixture of fondness and relief that he doesn’t have to live them anymore. It was hard being away from family and friends. And he had never really been much of a partier despite his love of drink.

Those days would often go something like this: Anyone who was in the house would wake up at odd hours, anytime between 10:00AM and 1:00PM depending on the escapades of the previous night. Some of them might not have even come home. Roger was the most suspect, of course. And Freddie would spend weeks away.  After waking up and spending a few hours milling about, shooting the breeze, they’d head off to the local studio for work. It was slow going. All except John were pretty easily distracted.

John stumbled into the kitchen wearing only a ratty t-shirt and a pair of ill-fitting boxers. After making a pot of coffee he hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter-top with some difficulty, making himself feel old in the process. He nursed his hangover between a mug of coffee and a jar of pickle juice and was considering frying up some bacon when he heard the slap of someone’s bare feet on the linoleum.

Freddie came striding down the hall into the kitchen. He had that disheveled, sleepy look about him. His arms were crossed tightly over his dressing gown to keep out the cold. John raised his eyebrows and looked at his watch. It was 9:00 in the morning. He’d never known any of them to be early risers. There must be some occasion.

Freddie said nothing. Didn’t even look at him. John watched as he poked his head into the fridge. From its depths he pulled a massive bottle of champagne. Presumably a favor from the last concert they played.

“No bloody orange juice, I can’t believe it.” Freddie grumbled under his breath. Where’s Pheobe got to? Honestly. Can’t even stock a fridge properly. John watched in bemused silence as Freddie uncorked the bottle, took a massive swig, re-corked it, and tossed it back in the fridge in a huff. He then moved his gaze to the cupboards and slid one open to inspect the contents.

John was sure that Freddie knew he was there. Freddie was just too wrapped up in… whatever he was doing to give John his full attention. John could only smile to himself. He felt like shit anyway, so it was nice he didn’t have to talk. He watched Freddie pull items from the cabinets in preparation for what John could only assume was breakfast.

Freddie was not a cook by any means. None except Brian were. John supposed if he had to organize them from best to worst it would go Brian, Himself, Freddie and then Roger. And the best John could do was fry bacon and put cheese on toast. It was a wonder how Freddie and Roger survived when they were living together back at Uni.

John was curious but decided not to say anything, opting to simply move out of the way. He hopped down from the kitchen counter and seated himself at the kitchen table.

It went on like this for a bit. John would take a sip of his pickle juice and wash it down with black coffee. Freddie would bustle about, whisking, frying, spicing. Whatever he was cooking he was burning it. And John was growing nauseous from the smell.

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” John leapt to his feet, relishing the idea of opening a door to get some fresh air.

“No, no. It’s fine, darling” Freddie turned the heat off the frying pan. “I’m expecting company.” He looked down at himself. “Goodness I’m underdressed.” He tutted. He left, and a few moments later John heard the door open to shouts of excitement.

“Barbara, darling!” John was reminded of the girls he would see in the front row of their stage performances. Chattering and squealing with delight to one another before the show started. Barbara was one of Freddie’s old partners. Freddie had pretty much lived in her apartment part time whenever they were in Munich. From their loud chatter John gleaned that Freddie had intentions of treating her to a day out while he was here.

It was possible the two hadn’t seen each other for quite some time. John didn’t know. Freddie’s life was none of his business. John used to worry about him quite a bit. But in recent years Freddie began enjoying evenings in with scrabble and good company. John supposed Freddie had officially been “partied out.” Took him long enough.

Barbara was invited in and the two immediately began to bicker. It seemed Barbara had wanted to take Freddie out as well. They had both made separate surprise plans. As their voices rose John’s head started to thud harder. The smell of Freddie’s cooking was still assaulting him.

“You have to let me take the lead today.” Freddie insisted as they made their way to the kitchen. “You don’t have have a choice. You really don’t. Look, I’ve just been making breakfast.”

John looked up to see Barbara. They waved at each other and smiled. Then she turned to look at what was sitting on the kitchen counter. John followed her gaze.

“Oh.” She began to laugh.

John hadn’t really been focusing on what Freddie had been cooking, but now he saw it. A fat stack of dark brown…. French toast?

“I’m so sorry, my love, but those look a bit burnt.” She poked one with her finger. Freddie crossed his arms and pursed his lips. His cheeks flushed red.

“Try one and maybe you’ll like it you silly tart.” He teased. His voice wavered somewhere between playful and annoyed.  

Barbara backtracked.

“Oh, love, I adore that you’ve cooked this for the two of us. I really do. I don’t like to cook much myself.” She pressed her palms flat to his chest and leaned into him. “Tell you what, Breakfast _I_ will buy for us. And today we’ll go with _your_ plans. They sound more exciting than mine anyway.”

Freddie pouted for a moment, mulling it over like a child. It had always fascinated John how Freddie could be so composed and surly one minute but then behave like this the next. It was uncanny.

“I’ll be getting a Mimosa, of course.” He stated it as a fact. As though striking a deal with her.

“What’s a good morning meal without one?” Barbara laughed and linked her arm in his. “Let’s get you dressed. I’m absolutely elated to be spending time with you today.”  The two stode back to Freddie’s room. Sometime later John heard their excited voices in the living room again. He called goodbye to them as they left.

John sighed. He was happy for Freddie. But he was also a bit jealous that Freddie had friends he could spend time with everywhere he went. None of the guys liked being on the road. Concerts and tours were amazing of course. But these in-between times of moving and stopping were tough. John often thought of his kids.

Veronica was doing fine raising them with the help of close family. But he felt guilty knowing she was doing all the work. At least she wasn’t waiting on him for other needs. He was happy that she wasn’t afraid to go out and date. See people on the side. She needed something to take the edge off.

John himself had always favored the bottle more. Ideal partners for him were few and far between. He didn’t fancy himself the sexual type. The two of them had had some bumpy times together over it. It wasn't easy on her for him to be away, and when they were together John couldn't always make himself be interested in sex. Eventually, after quite a few bumpy years, they both came to a mutual understanding that their relationship wouldn’t survive on a traditional monogamous path. They made it work. And somehow some normalcy was restored to their lives. The sudden freedom that their arrangement gave them managed to pull them closer together. In the past year they'd started talking to each other just as much as when they'd first started dating. Truly, they were each other’s rocks.

But now John was in a rare mood that made him crave physical attention. Every once in a while it would happen. He'd get this itch he couldn't scratch. A clenching in his chest that he couldn't drown in drink. Sometimes it was so bad it made him absolutely rabid. Like a dog in full rut. He never could quite identify the cause. Maybe this time it was because he was so far away from home. He wondered if calling Veronica would help. She had gotten insanely good at phone sex over the years.

He clicked his tongue and stared down at the jar of pickle juice. He’d hardly made a dent in it but was tired of sucking it down. His hangover was beginning to fade slightly and where his nausea left him hunger came. He eyed the stack of burnt french toast on the kitchen counter.

Gingerly, so as not to let the blood rush from his head, he stood and walked the pickle juice back to the fridge.

 

* * *

 

John took another sip of gin straight from the bottle. The spirit washed over his tongue and burned the back of his throat like a pesticide. He relished it. He’d been rocking a smooth buzz through most of the afternoon while watching television on the sofa in the living room. Swigging, enjoying the warm feeling, sobering slightly, and swigging again. He’d gotten good at pacing himself over the years. He was right where he liked to be: sober enough to do daily activities with little difficulty, but drunk enough that he could avoid his feelings for a bit.

It wasn’t healthy. He knew it wasn’t. He had an engineering degree for christ's sake. He wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t identify he had a problem. But he supposed he _was_ stupid enough to have no immediate interest in fixing it. But it was hard. He wasn’t a machine.

Roger had woken around 11:30 and was out the door soon after.He grabbed the keys to the candy red BMW Convertible waiting for him in garage and bounded out with a wave goodbye.

Brian wasn’t up until 1:00. John wasn’t surprised. Brian was a bit of an insomniac. Falling asleep and waking up at odd hours of the night. Sometimes John would wake up to go to the toilet and he’d find Brian in some place or another reading a book or listening to music on a cassette player. If Brian ever woke up before noon of his own volition John would have to look outside and make sure the rapture wasn’t happening.

“Morning,” Brian called from the kitchen. John smiled.

“Afternoon,” John called back.

“Morning for me,” Brian corrected.

“So it is.” John could hear the clanking of dishware.

“Is this french toast?” Brian asked. “Did you make it, John?”

“I'd forgotten about that.” John laughed. Everything was a little bit funnier with gin. “Freddie made it for an old friend of his but she refused to eat it. S’not so bad, honestly. Once you scrape the burnt parts off.”

“You actually ate this?” John could hear the amused disgust in Brian’s voice.

“I told you it’s not bad.” He insisted.

“How long has it been sitting here?”

John squinted. He couldn’t remember when Freddie had left the house. He’d been slowly eating a slice every now and then for the past…..

“Three hours or so, maybe?” He said. There was a pause from Brian.

“Right. These are going in the bin. I’ll make lunch.”

“Can I have some too?”

“Are you going to help?”

John got up from the sofa slowly, feeling sore in lis lower back from having sat for so long. He really need to consider exercising more. He strode into the kitchen. Brian was kneeling in front of the fridge. Like John, he was a bit under-dressed. Only instead of just wearing boxers, Brian had opted to slide on an old tattered pair of blue jeans. His hair was squished flat in some places and frizzy in others, probably from rolling around in his sleep. He looked tired and scraggly. But in John’s slightly inebriated state Brian didn’t look half bad. Kind of sexy actually.

It wasn’t common for John to feel attracted to his band mates. But he did fancy them all for different reasons at different times. Usually when he was drunk. He liked that he could share quiet moments with Freddie, sitting together in the same room doing different things but still enjoying each other’s company. He liked that Roger was good at riling him up. Making him excited and more willing to socialize.

But above all he liked that Brian was the type who wouldn’t take shit from anybody. John could have had his order gotten wrong at some restaurant or another and just lived with it. But it was always Brian who noticed and made the waiter take it back. Brian also wasn’t afraid to tell someone to fuck off when they were being rude to John. Freddie and Roger both had a knack for theatrics and didn’t always notice John’s discomfort. But Brian did. He was incredibly empathetic.

“We haven’t got much here,” Brian observed. “I may have to run to the market.” He slammed the refrigerator door shut and stood. He looked John up and down, stopping at his boxers. He flushed a bit and sighed.

“I can see your cock through the fly in your pants.” He said, looking away.

“Oh,” John looked down. The button that usually held the fly closed on his boxers was missing, leaving a wide window that left little to the imagination. As he realized what a good look Brian must have gotten his cock twitched involuntarily. He immediately covered himself with his hands, praying that Brian hadn't seen that. “Jesus, sorry Bri.”

“S’not like it’s anything new. What with dressing rooms and all.” It was true. They’d seen each other naked or nearly countless times. But this time they were alone together and John was feeling a little too vulnerable.

“I’m off to the market to get us something for a real meal.” Brian continued. He brushed passed John to the rack of car keys by the door. “Fancy coming along?”

John bit his lip. He thought of his bottle of gin lying on the sofa. He wasn’t really emotionally prepared to go out. He usually had to steal himself.

Brian immediately sensed his discomfort. “I’ll just go then,” He said. John felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “But when I get back I’ll have you cutting vegetables _and_ washing dishes.”

“Sounds like a fair trade.” John gave his best attempt at a smile. He couldn’t meet Brian’s eyes so he looked down at Brian’s hands. Which was a poor choice. He had a sudden, flashing mental image of those long fingers against his skin. His cock gave another twitch beneath his hands. He blinked rapidly. What the fuck was wrong with him?

As he broke from his trance the silence in the room seemed to become heavy.

“John, are you okay?” Brian asked. “Is there something wrong?” He went to take a step forward. John panicked and took a long, sweeping stride back.

“M’alright,” he shrugged. Trying his best to feign a casual tone of voice. A quick glance up told him Brian wasn’t buying it. He faltered. Trying to think of the best way to explain himself without outright saying ‘I need someone to touch me.’

“I just, ehm…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I tried calling Veronica earlier and the whole thing was a bit short. She’s very busy, you know. And the kids were with the in-laws, so I couldn’t ask after any of them. Robbie just got back from his Science Camp and I couldn’t ask him about it. You know. Silly parent stuff. It’s a bit stressful. A bit lonely without the wife and all that.” John wasn’t much for talking. As such it was difficult for him to explain the complex feelings he was having, much less understand them himself.

He couldn’t really read Brian’s expression. It was very passive.

“M’sorry John, I didn’t realize.” He sighed. “I know that feeling too. That kind of… disappointment. Like you’re not doing your part.”

John’s eyes widened. “That’s exactly it, isn’t it? I hate it.”

Brian laughed. It was a knowing, melancholy sound. “But what can you do, yeh know?”

“Not a clue.” John smiled wryly, his mind again wandering to his gin.

“How about we talk about this more when I get back, yeah?” Brian offered. “It’ll be good to let off some steam.”

“Certainly.” John nodded. But he knew how he’d rather be letting off steam. “Right. You go out out and I’ll get dressed. How long do you plan to be gone?”

“Only an hour or so. No worries.” Brian smiled and grabbed the other set of car keys from their hanger. I’ll be back before you know it. Just don’t do anything too crazy without me.” He winked and slid out the door. John waved, letting a sigh escape him. He looked down at his pants. The tip of his cock was poking through. He’d gotten a bit of a chub. He decided he ought to go wank before Brian came back. And find a better pair of underwear.

He lept for his gin and took a massive swig, feeling it burn a hole into his gut. Then he plodded off to his bedroom.

He sorted through the jumbled mess in his suitcase. Since his stage outfits were usually carried with the costumes, he had few personal effects, and they all smelled old. Normally he’d make a call to his personal assistant to have them washed. But since their house was equipped with its own electric washer he could do it himself. He stretched his arms wide and scooped up as much of his clothes as he could manage. As he stood a few small items fell off, socks, a shirt, some underwear. And then something heavy dropped and hit the floor with a small thud. John tried to peer over the wad of clothes to see but couldn’t. He walked the pile to the utility room, tossed it in the washer, and then went back to grab the leftovers.

On the floor was a video cassette tape with no case.

“Oh, I remember you,” He bent over and picked it up. “You’re Laura’s.” The cassette tape had _The Care Bears Movie_ written across the front in bubble letters. Laura had loved the film since he had taken her to the theater to see it a few years back. It had been extremely expensive to buy the family a VCR for christmas, let alone a video tape for each child. But Laura’s eyes had lit up when she unwrapped her present. She had always loved movies. And She loved Care Bears so much that she collected the lot of their plush toys, doing chores around the house just so she could be rewarded with a new one. Her favorite movie of all time had to be the tape John was now holding in his hand. She had given it to him just before he had gone on tour.

“This is so you’ll know I’ll always care about you,” she had said quite matter of factly. It seemed to pain her to let go of it, but she wouldn’t let him leave without it, threatening him with a tantrum.

He had taken it. But amidst all the chaos around traveling he had completely forgotten about it. The movie was pretty well ingrained into his memory. On days when she was feeling sad, Laura would watch it over and over again to the point where she knew all the words. John was pretty close to knowing them himself.

Right then and there he decided he wanted to watch it. And the follow-up thought was to accompany his watch with a drink. He tucked the tape under his arm and grabbed the remainder of his laundry to wash it. He had completely forgotten about the open window in his boxers, and the fact that he had intended to wank.

He managed to find some powdered soap in the back of a cabinet above the washing machine. He couldn’t quite remember how much soap was appropriate so he eye-balled until it looked right. After switching the machine on he went out to the living room to pop the movie in.

The telly was a small thing with a built-in VCR. Since the fellas didn’t often spend time at home when they were recording previous albums, they felt that there was no need to make a huge purchase on a huge telly. John was sure the only reason they bought the one with the attached VCR was so Roger could enjoy pornography he rented from the local video store. And, sure enough, when John tried to put his tape in there was another tape blocking it. He ejected it. _School Girl_ starring Debra Allen. John laughed out loud. He had expected to find some obscure German film he couldn’t read. But this was the exact tape Roger had continuously complained about losing for years. He popped Care Bears in its place.

Of course he had to rewind the thing. While he waited he crept into Roger’s room and hid _School Girl_ under the pillow. On his way back down the hall he grabbed the blanket off his bed and draped it around himself. He nabbed his bottle of gin from the sofa once more and went back to the kitchen to make his drink.

Brian had been right about the kitchen not being properly stocked. Usually the roadies or Freddie’s PA, Phoebe, would help the band stay fed. It seemed Phebes had tried his best last night. But since the concert venue and the roadies’ hotel accommodations were across town he could only do so much.

There was a box of cold cereal, milk, eggs, bread, and a cupboard packed to the gills with snacks. John took another swig of his gin, sucking on the rim slightly, and began pulling the snacks down. Hard candies, crisps, trail mix, some things in strange packaging that John couldn’t really read and…. A package of fairy floss…. He inspected it. It was simple silver packaging with a clear plastic front. Inside was the basic pink and blue colored stuff.

No one in the band really liked sweet things. Freddie was the most inclined. He enjoyed sucking on lozenges to help his throat after concerts, which explained the hard candies. But the fairy floss was something out of left field. Knowing Phoebe, who seemed to be a man perpetually in a rush, he probably grabbed it at the local grocery store without really thinking about it.

But… it did give John an idea. He smiled and turned his attention to the fridge. Freddie had already popped the cork on the bottle of champaign. There was no way he could know for sure if someone else helped themselves to a bit.

A few minutes later John had his concoction sitting proudly in a tumbler on the counter. The cotton candy had swirled into the the mixture of champagne and gin, turning the drink a sickly sweet purple color. He had wanted it on ice but none of the ice trays in the freezer had any. Nobody had set foot in the house for years so why should they? But Pheobe had been kind enough to grab a couple bags of frozen fruit in a frail attempt to make sure the fellas were eating somewhat healthy. John had poured his drink over a mix of frozen berries.

He took a sip and smacked his lips.

“Damn I’m good.”

He went back to the living room, snapped play on the VCR, and flayed himself out on the sofa. A content smile played on his lips as the commercials before the movie began to play. He could recite these by memory too.

 

* * *

 

Brian came in through the door about halfway through the movie. He had a solitary grocery bag packed to the brim. John was scratching his balls just as Brian spotted him.

“Briiiaan!” He called from the sofa. “You’re back! I was worried!”

“I was only gone 45 minutes!” Brian chuckled. “I see you still haven’t changed out of your pants. Indeed, John hadn’t. His privates were dangerously close to spilling out of his fly. Which reminded him…

“Oh, I’ve got laundry in the washer!” He said. He sprung up, only to fall immediately back down on the sofa with a “whoop!”

“Alright there, John?” Brian asked, looking over from where he was re-hanging the keys. John was frazzled. He could feel heat creeping up his neck and to his face. He covered his face with his hands and giggled.

“I’m a bit drunk,” He admitted. Brian looked about. He spotted the half-empty bottle of gin standing next to the glass tumbler on the coffee table. The only thing left in the glass was fruit mush. 

“Jesus, you are aren’t you.” He said, putting his groceries down and walking over. He grabbed the bottle. “Did you drink this much by yourself?”

John was a fit of giggles. He couldn't believe he’d drunk that much. It almost felt like an accomplishment. He couldn't remember why he even decided to have so much gin. He was so beside himself he rolled onto the floor.

“Oof! Whoopsie. Oh! Brian! I’ve found my fairy floss!”

“Your what?”

“My fairy floss!” John rolled over and sat up, brandishing the silver packaging he’d pulled from under the sofa. “I thought I’d lost it.” He shoved a wad of it into his mouth, letting the spun sugar melt over his tongue. He fell back on the carpet in bliss. “Oh, it’s so good, Bri! Here, there’s still some left. You should have some!”

He looked up to see Brian standing over him. John couldn’t really read his expression. He was too drunk. But he thought Brian looked sad. Meanwhile John could hear Bright Heart Raccoon being introduced in the movie, his favorite character. He turned his head to see the little guy, popping more fairy floss in his mouth.

“Honestly, John, it’s 3:00 in the afternoon and you’re plastered.”

“Better you than me, eh? You’re so smart Bri. If you were more like me I don’t know what I’d do.” John smiled fondly up at Brian. He looked very good in that t-shirt of his.

“I’ve no clue what that means,” Brian sighed. He bent over. “C’mon, let’s get you up. You can’t sit here on the floor.”

Brian’s face was suddenly too close to this. Without thinking, John kissed him. It was just too easy to reach up, wrap his arms around Brian’s head, knot his fingers in that nest of curls, and pull. Brian lost his balance and fell forward into John. Their teeth clacked together. John didn’t notice or care. He was kissing Brian and that was about all he could focus on.

It was a blissful moment for him. But Brian seemed to be trying to reposition himself. It was difficult for John to keep ahold of him. He turned a bit underneath Brian, hiking a leg up and over his back. Brian was a strange kisser. He wasn’t moving his mouth at all.

He felt a tug at the back of his head. He tried to ignore it at first but then the pain became unbearable. Their kiss broke as John’s head was forced up and back by his hair. He let go of Brian and reached up, trying to locate what was hurting him. His hands clenched around Brian’s arm.

“Ouch, Bri, What?” John struggled against the grip. “S-stop, that hurts.”

“Will you stop kissing me?”

“Wha-” John stopped for a moment to look up. The look on Brian’s face was absolutely terrifying. The lips John had been sucking and nipping at were pulled tight against his teeth, glistening with spit. His eyebrows were so narrow they threatened to cover his eyes, the pupils of which were blown wide. He looked enraged and debauched at the same time. It gave John a sudden moment of clarity through the haze of his inebriation.

“Oh god, Brian. I’m so sorry. Shit. I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t.” Brian grunted. “Don’t say anything. Just… let me get my bearings for a second.”

He felt the grip on his hair loosen. Brian awkwardly pushed himself off John, sitting back on his knees. His face screwed up.

John scooted away to give him space. He felt absolutely terrible. He’d never done anything this irrational in his life. Suddenly he hated being drunk. He didn’t have enough sense to know what to do or say or probably even walk properly.

“Care Bears Stare!”

John’s head snapped to the television. The movie was still playing. The wires in his brain connected for a brief moment. He decided that the movie was a bit too much on top of everything else. He scooted over to it, inching his bottom along the floor.

“What on earth are you doing?” Brian asked. He sounded almost amused.

John reached for the pause button on the VCR. “I don’t know if I can walk.” He said simply, trying his best to concentrate on the one task he had assigned to himself. When the sound from the movie stopped he sighed and toppled over. He lay there on the floor trying to think about what had just happened. He could tell his brain wanted to whirr to life and scream at him. But the alcohol kept the panic at bay.

“Brian, I’m _too_ drunk” He cried, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“I’ve gathered that,” said Brian. John looked over at him. He was rubbing his lower lip gingerly. “That hurt, you know.”

“Oh god, Brian. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually did it.” His hands were back on his face again. John couldn’t decide if he was guilty or giddy. His voice was coming out in a quaver stuck somewhere between giggles and sobs. He couldn’t handle this. He heard Brian stand up and grab his groceries from the place he had left them by the front door.

“What’dyou mean by that?” Brian asked. He walked over to peer down at John once again. John peaked at him through his fingers.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked. His voice was muffled by his hands.

Brian narrowed his eyebrows. “Yes. I think so. But you’re so pissed I don’t think I can be too mad.”

John nodded solemnly. It was embarrassing being trapped on the floor.

“What’dou mean by you ‘can’t believe you actually did it?’” Brian asked again, giving John a nudge with his foot. John stiffened.

“Well you always just kind of… understand me, don’t you?” The words were spilling from him before he could realize what he was doing.

“I do?”

“Of course you do. You know you do! You always notice when I’ve had about enough of something. You’re always doing things that help me along. Like two weeks ago when that prick in Brussels decided he wanted to give me pointers on my bass rig. ME. John fucking Deacon. Like it’s not my job to make sure I have the best equipment that works for me.”

_Bring it around, John. You’re rambling._

“But you!” He points at Brian’s amused face. “You come right over. And of course I’m thanking the bloke like a right dick. And after about 2 seconds of speaking with him you go ‘Right. I suppose _some_ people have to get their kicks telling professionals how to do their jobs.’ My _god_ Brian I nearly choked on my drink.”

Brian laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. Come to think of it I remember the look on his face right when I said it.”

“You don’t understand, Bri.” John insisted. “You’re always making sure I don’t have to take that kind of rubbish from people when I can’t do it myself.”

“So what?” Brain smiled. “I look out for you cuz I care about you. I don’t understand what this has to do with you snogging me.”

“I don’t knooow,” John whined and rolled over. “You’re hot I guess.” He felt absolutely miserable.

“You _guess_?” Brian sounded exasperated. “I’ve never seen you this far gone, John. First you tell me you miss the wife and kids. And then not 40 minutes later I come home to you drunk watching…” He squinted at the telly.

John decided to be helpful. “They’re Care Bears”

Brian gave a start. He shook his head. “Right, I need to blow off some steam. And we need to sober you up. I’ve no clue what’s going on in your head right now. You think you can crawl back onto the sofa for me, please?” He retreated into the kitchen. John could hear the thud of the groceries on the counter. He didn’t want to move from his place on the carpet. But Brian had asked him nicely. He tried to stand but as he did the world swirled around him. He couldn't make his legs do what he wanted. He stumbled and fell, nearly smashing his head against the coffee table.

“Alright?” Called Brian.

“Fine! Fine.” John crawled the rest of the journey, hoisting himself up. He tried to squeeze himself into the farthest corner of the sofa, curling himself into a fetal position. This was all a bit too much for him all of a sudden. He had been having such a good time being drunk and watching a children’s movie. But he’d gotten too bold. Why was he like this? Sometimes he really hated himself.

He felt something cold press against the back of his neck and he jumped. It was Brian with a cup of water.

“Don’t drop it. Drink it slow.” He instructed. John did so. He couldn’t look Brian in the face.

“M’sorry, Bri.” He said.

“You’ve said that already.”

“I know but I mean it.”

“I know you do.” Brian started to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll be making dinner then. Without your help. So you owe me something big.”

John gingerly set his cup on the table. He scrunched up his face.

“Briii,”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t stand well. Can you help me to the toilet?”

Brian came back into the room. John sat pouting and gripping his feet in both hands. Brian sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah… you definitely owe me for this.”

 

* * *

 

“So why were you even watching this movie anyway?” Brian asked. The two were tucking in to their meal. John wasn’t sure which meal it was because his concept of time was horribly warped. It felt like dinner? But eating dinner warranted having eaten lunch, didn’t it?

“What?” He turned to look at Brian. He was eating his food off the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the carpet like a child. He was still pretty drunk and Brian had insisted he wasn’t allowed to hold his plate on the couch. He’d asked Brian to hit play on the VCR so he could finish his movie.

“This movie with the bears.” Brian repeated. “Why were you watching it?”

“It’s Laura’s favorite” John replied simply. Brian seemed to understand.

“Is Laura a fan of films or just this one in particular?” He asked. John was surprised. It wasn’t often any of them really talked about family. It was like they all lived in two different worlds; the ones where they were normal people, and the ones where they were Queen. He thought for a moment.

“She likes films in general I would say.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oooh, yes. She has a bad habit of watching things she’s not supposed to. I was always catching her sneaking out past her bedtime. She likes to hide behind the couch and watch whatever Veronica and I fancy.”

“Nothing too awful I hope.”

“We don’t watch porn if that’s what you’re thinking.” John looked over his shoulder and smiled. “But Veronica does enjoy those scary ones you can sometimes catch on public television at night. _Nightmare on Elm Street, Children of the Corn, The Shining._ For the longest time I was catching Laura and sending her back to her room. But after a while I just gave up. We just pretend not to notice and hope all the gore doesn’t go to her head.”

“I don’t think I knew that about her.” John could hear the smile in Brian’s voice.

“She’s a girl after Roger’s own heart, for sure.” John chuckled. “Never a dull moment with her, I swear.” He leaned back and rested against the front of the sofa. Brian’s leg was so close his shoulder nearly rubbed against it. He half expected Brian to fidget and shift away. But he didn’t.

“You said you miss them a lot.” Brian stated.

“Oh, I do. Why’dyou think I drink so damn much?” John watched as the movie’s antagonist, an evil magical book, tells the young boy Nicholas that its spell to rid the world of all caring is nearly complete. John spoke the next lines in unison with the narrator. 

“It was hard to believe that only a short time ago this was a place of happiness and joy. Now without love to keep it alive, it had become a home of fear, loneliness and ruin.”

“Jesus,” Brian breathed. “You know all the words too?”

“I told you, Laura loves this movie.” John shrugged. “I’ve seen it about a thousand times.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the remnants of the story unfold. It occurred to John that he didn’t know much about Brian’s recent personal life.

“How’re yours?” He asked. “The kids, I mean.”

Brian clicked his tongue. “They’re doing well, I suppose. I can’t say too much outside of that. I don’t really have much of a chance to be present in their lives any more than you do yours.”

John grunted. He recognized that tone of voice Brian had. The seemingly dismissive facade. Pretending to be apathetic about his lot when really he was burning just as much as John was.

“How’s the baby?” John asked. Brian laughed.

“Well we’ve not had it yet have we.” Brian shifted and set his plate on the coffee table. He stretched out on the sofa. “Chrissie’s about about, ehm… just under 3 months along I’d say.”

John turned to smile at him over his shoulder. “Scared yet?”

“No. Hasn’t quite sunk in yet.” Brian was chewing on his nails. He pulled a large chunk off of his index finger. “Chrissie’s got names set aside already, of course. I’m just praying I’m home when it happens.”

“You will be.”

Brian smiled down at his hands. John squinted at him. There was something not quite right. Brian had always been the melancholy type, but John had never recalled him quite that way in matters of his family.

“You’re sad about something.” John stated. He couldn’t think of any other way to say it. Brian gave a start, blinking dumbly.

“I usually am, yeah.” He almost smiled. Almost. John swatted at him.

“That’s not what I meeeaan!” He brought his elbow up to rest on Brian’s knee. He felt Brian tense slightly but ignored it, leaning in as close as he could manage. “For your oldest you were through the roof. Your little girl you were writing poems for the moment she popped out. Why’s the third one different?” Brian inched away. He avoided John’s gaze.

“S’not exactly your business is it?” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since when wasn’t it?” John burped. He felt the sugar of the fairy floss burn his throat.

“Jesus John,” Brian laughed. “You reek of alcohol.” He pressed his hand to John’s mouth and pushed him away. John tumbled backward onto the carpet like a ragdoll. They laughed.

“C’mon, Bri.” John pressed. “Tell me why you’re sad. Do you honestly think I’d go and tell anyone?”

Brian sat up on the couch and took his thumbnail between his teeth. He seemed to be mulling something over. John waited. He had enough self-awareness to know not to push Brian too much. Finally, Brian heaved a long, deep sigh.

“Christine and I…. We’re not… working out so well right now I don’t think.” He spoke very slowly. His deliberation didn’t go unnoticed. John realized it must have been a struggle for him to get the words out.

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to say. “Have you been…. Fighting?”

Brian shook his head. He refused to look at John. “No. No. I mean. We fight. But this isn’t really that type of issue.” He stopped, bringing his face to look up at the ceiling. “I think….” John watched his face screw up. He looked like he was in physical pain. “I don’t think we love each other anymore. Not in the same way we used to, I mean.”

John pushed himself up into a seated position. He stared at Brian, shocked. “Just like that, you mean? No more love?”

Brian squinted at nothing. “Nnnoo…” He said carefully. “I think it’s been coming on for a few years now, if it wasn’t somewhat always that way. We’ve had a few exchanges about it. Nothing pleasant. She seems to think we should see other people for a bit. Come back around to each other after a while. See if it rekindles anything, you know?”

“And what to you think about that?”

“I think I agree with her.” Brian fell back and squished himself deep into the cushions. “We’re kind of scarred, you know? We’ve depended on each other for so long. It’s hard to let go. And the kids make it harder, of course. But when I look at her I just… I don’t feel anything. No passion, you know?”

John nodded. He sort of understood that. He'd never been the 'passionate' type. It all depended on his mood. But he'd never once stopped loving Veronica. Love was so much more complex than sexual passion. Veronica came into his life and something had just clicked. It made him stick around no matter how bitter he felt sometimes. It was work to make things work, for sure. But it was meaningful work.

“I mean,” Brian continued. “We used to shag all the time when we were younger. You couldn’t pry us apart with a jemmy! But now we bicker about inane this-and-that bullshit. And I just... I’m confused, you know?”

“Confused because….?” John was trying to be helpful. But Brian was speaking so rapidly it was difficult for him to keep up. As the gin in his system wore off, the headache he had had earlier that day was coming back to him.

Brian didn’t reply to him right away. He had gone back to furiously biting his nails. In fact Brian had gone so dead quiet that John suddenly thought he’d said something very wrong.

“Bri?” He called.

“Sorry,” Brian shook his head. He looked over. “John,”

“Yeah?”

“You ever just… think that something is true your whole life, and then one day you realize that maybe that wasn’t the case?

John frowned. “Do you mean like… growing up and finding out that mice don’t actually like cheese?”

Brain raised an eyebrow. “I… suppose so. Yeah. Just something you’ve always sort of accepted and never questioned. But then maybe one day you think ‘well that’s not quite right, is it?’”

John screwed up his face. He was trying really hard to understand Brian, but it was difficult. Brian was looking at him so expectantly too. Like he was willing for John to understand something through telepathy.

“Ah, forget it.” Brian grunted, his gaze falling back to the movie. “It’s too difficult for me to put to words right now.”

The two of them watched the rest of the movie in silence. The whole thing was a bit cheesy. Children’s movies always had happy endings. But John still smiled for the boy Nicholas, who, after struggling alone for so long, finally had some friends. As the film cut to black John was thrown back to reality.

He was beginning to really sober up. He’d been able to stand properly the last time he’d had to use the toilet.

“Well, that was… interesting.” Brain said from the couch. John heard him grunt as he stretched. “D’you feel sober yet?”

“Better, yeah.” John nodded. “But not quite there I’d say. Do you mind changing the telly to something else. Or rewinding the movie so I can watch it again?”

“You’d watch that again?” There was a hint of horror in Brian’s voice.

“S’good story.” John insisted. “I like that it ends happy.”

“I’d like to watch something else if you don’t mind.” Brian replied. He stood and walked over to the television. He ejected the tape for John and handed it to him. Then he fiddled with the channels for a bit until he settled on something he found suitable. Some German game show. It reminded John of old times.

Back when they used to live in the house together Roger would always have the telly on something like this for white noise. He often admitted he hated being in a quiet house. Nobody could blame him.

Brian put the dishes in the kitchen sink and then disappeared into his room for a bit. He came back with a book. Some hefty essay on the cosmos John assumed.

As he sobered the events of the afternoon weighed more heavily on him, and with greater clarity. He’d kissed Brian. Brian hadn’t been ‘adjusting’ on top of him, he’d been struggling. And John was so daft that Brian had to nearly scalp him to get him to stop. And yet afterwards Brian had cooked food for him, talked to him as if nothing had happened, and was now reading a book with the same apathy.

As the minutes ticked by the elephant in the room became more apparent to John. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything. Not yet. So he just sat and watched the German television. He could pick out some familiar words from when he had taken a couple years of German in secondary school. The contenders were… trying to win… a large sum of money? He couldn’t quite remember german numbers. They had to… answer some kind of trivia it seemed.

Trivia… John recalled Brian’s words about some accepted truth turning out to be false. He turned them over in his mind. He tried to think about how Brian had been behaving recently to see if he could link it to what he had said. But had there been anything out of the ordinary?

He recalled the event two weeks ago with the man in Brussels. After being curt with the guy, Brian had promptly linked his arm in John’s and walked the two of them away. At the time it had come as a bit of a shock to John. Brian wasn’t normally physical. But he forgot it as soon as it had happened. But now that he thought about it, _really_ thought, Brian had suddenly become much more physical in the past months leading up to the tour. Slight touches here. An arm over the shoulder there. Brian didn’t normally touch anyone if he could help it. But he was touching John. John recalled the blush that had spread over Brian’s face when he realized he could see John’s cock through his pants. Something that Freddie nor Roger would have done. Rather, they might have just laughed.

A sudden thought occured to John.

He swiveled his head to look at Brian. He was chewing on a pinky nail as he read.

“Brian,”

“Hmm?”

“Do you...“ He fumbled. “Were you trying to tell me that you weren’t attracted to Christine, or… could it be maybe…  that you might not be attracted to her because she’s a woman?” He bit his lip. It was a bold assumption. But it was the only way he could think to word it without asking his intended question outright.

Brian’s eyes widened. He looked at John and bit his lip. Gently, he set his book on the coffee table. His hands found the tops of his thighs and he began rubbing them.

“I don’t… know… how to answer that.” he said. He sounded very uncomfortable. John knew at once what he meant. He felt his heart reaching out for Brian.

“Have you… had a chance to find out?” He asked. Brian looked stricken.

“Find out?” The leg-rubbing quickened. John hesitated. His interest had been piqued but he was still slightly inebriated. He wasn’t sure if he was making a wise choice. Not only that but he hadn’t a suave bone in his body.

“You told me that the two of you thought it might be best to see different people.” John continued slowly. He saw the color drain from Brian’s face as he realized what John was about to say. “Maybe you should try someone _really_ different.”

They stared at each other. The bridge had been made. John had understood what Brian had been trying to say, and he was extending an olive branch. But would Brian take it?

“I don’t-” Brian stuttered. “I mean I wouldn’t know how.”

“I don’t see how it would be any different.” John smiled. He could feel his heart racing. Brian wasn’t trying to push him away. They both wanted this.

“Are you sober enough?” Brian asked.

John almost laughed allowed. “Sober as I’ll ever be. If I go any further the hangover will put me off it.” He reached out his hand and rested it on Brian’s knee. His thumb swirled small circles against the fabric. “You’re always taking care of me, Bri. Why don’t you let me take care of you for once?”

Brian tensed, and then relaxed. He let out a long, tired sigh.

“Can you just… give me a minute?” He asked. “Let me sort of, get my bearings with this?”

“Of course.” John smiled and withdrew his hand. “We can start whenever you like. Fast or as slow. We stop when you say so.”

“Jesus, John” Brian let out a breathy laugh. “You’re much too serious all of a sudden. I take it this isn’t your first rodeo.”

John shrugged. “I’m not interested in many people, Bri. Men or women. I’ve got to take it seriously, you know.” His eyes met Brian’s and he smiled. “Doesn’t happen very often.”

Brian blinked. He crept forward on the couch and hovered, his face just above John’s. Then their lips met.

It was brief. Not much more than a peck. Curious and hesitant.

Brian pulled away and stared at John for a moment, then he went back in for more. John moved his lips against Brian’s gingerly, matching the pace. Letting him take control. It was nice. Soothing almost. Brian was draped over the couch. John’s head was tilted back, resting against the cushions. And they just kissed. Tasted each other. Enjoyed it.

After a while Brian got brave and deepened it. He probed his tongue forward and John eagerly obliged. The soothing sensation of the kiss rose into a slow burn. John could feel heat rushing to his groin. He brought his hand up to stroke the side of Brian’s face and he leaned into it, sighing into John’s mouth. It was the kind of noise that could drive someone crazy. John decided he wanted to hear more of it.

He made to sit up but stumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily. Brian had just enough time to chuckle before John climbed the couch and came crashing down on him. He ran his fingers up through Brian’s hair and then back down to hold on to either side of his face as they kissed. Brian’s face was incredibly soft. He ran his thumbs over those cheekbones and relished the feeling. He was rewarded with another sigh. It was intoxicating. If John thought Brian _looked_ good, how he sounded was something else entirely.

John had one knee rested in the crook of the couch. His other foot was still on the carpet, balancing him as he half-straddled Brian. It was awkward. He tried to put all of his weight on the leg trapped in the cushions so as not to crush him, but it was falling asleep. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it. And then Brian clamped his teeth down on John’s lower lip and pulled.

“Nnnnh!” He lost his balance immediately, dropping all his weight. He ground his cock down hard. Brian yelped and bucked up into him.

It was a whirlwind after that. Brian was taking to John like a duck to water. The hands beneath John where everywhere. Fingernails digging into the skin of his hips. Palms sliding down his chest, grazing nipples as they went. And his tongue. _God._ The things Brian could do with it had him feeling dizzy.

Brian seemed to be throwing caution to the wind and all John could manage to do was hang on for the ride. He ground down again, this time forcing all his weight down on purpose. Brian rocked bellow him, gasping.

“Fuck! John.”

John grinned like the devil and took advantage of the opening. He quickly reached up and snagged a clump of those delicious jet black curls and pulled up and back. The effect was instant.

Brian froze like a cat caught by the scruff of its neck. He let his head be wrenched back with a soundless cry on his lips. John assaulted the sweet exposed skin. He drug his tongue up from Brian’s collar bone to the back of his ear, stopping to trace around its shell and suck loudly on the lobe. Brain let out a strangled sound. His upper body was frozen in place but his legs were scrambling beneath John. And John had had about enough of it.

“Steady there, darling.” John’s voice came out in a growl. Brian whimpered. Without unearthing his hand from that mountain of curls, John forced a knee between his legs. Then the other.

John had quite expected the sigh that escaped Brian’s lips. What he hadn’t expected was for him to hoist his hips up, practically onto John’s lap, and wrap his legs tightly around John’s waist. Something in John’s brain short-circuited. In one swift movement he gave another harsh yank back on Brian’s hair, fell forward, and clamped his teeth onto the crook of his neck.

Brian yowled. It was high pitched, loud, and so fucking _needy._ He tried to buck up but couldn’t. He was trapped under John’s weight as John mercilessly bit and sucked at every inch of his neck he could reach. He could only lie back and take it, a string of unintelligible words flying from his mouth. John was swimming in him. His noises. His scent. His taste. After all these years he thought he’d really known Brian. But this was something entirely new and so. Fucking. _Good._

This wasn’t enough, John wanted more. He took his hand from Brian’s hair and sat up, sliding his fingers up and under his t-shirt. Brian helped him wiggle it off. John raked his eyes over him. Ribs heaving beneath pale skin. Sharp hip bones jutting out just above the waistband of his jeans. A flush of pink spreading down from his neck where John could already see bruises forming. He felt satisfaction rise in his gut. It would be a few weeks before those marks faded.

John was about to dive in for more when he felt Brian’s creeping fingers. A moment later John’s cock was free of his pants. As it came to rest against the bulge in Brian’s jeans he saw him lick his lips. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. But he seemed unsure of what to do with himself.

John smiled. It was just like when Brian wrote songs. He’d spend a good hour or two cranking out something wonderful and then completely lose himself halfway through. Always getting caught up on those tiny details and losing sight of the bigger picture.

“I don’t bite, you know.” John chuckled. Brian pursed his lips.

“Obviously not,” He said. “I’m just trying to sort of…” He wrapped his hand around John’s cock and pulled.

“ _Ah-_ ” Brian’s hands were slightly cold against the heat of his prick. He felt his whole body tense up as he was touched, slowly, methodically. It wasn’t the best hand-job John had ever gotten. But it was the first one in a long, long time. And when he looked down to see those slim fingers working him over he immediately grabbed Brian’s hips and rolled up into the touch. Throwing his head back.

“Am I doing alright?” Brian asked. He slid his thumb over John’s glands, smearing pre-cum.

“Fuck,” John managed. A breathy laugh escaping his throat. “I don’t think you could do badly if you tried. Not with those hands.” But Brian seemed unimpressed.

“I’m used to doing it to myself. Maybe we could change positions?”

John groaned in frustration. He didn’t want this to stop. Brian had picked up the pace but loosened his grip. It was almost like he was intentionally trying to edge John.

“Would you rather I take over?” John asked. He looked down to see a pair of raised eyebrows. He was sure he looked fucking wrecked. Brian’s tongue darted out from his lips as he smirked.

“No, you owe me for dinner, remember?” he said. And then his expression changed into something very dark. “I want to make you come.”

John whimpered in spite of himself.

Brian sat up and back against the couch, spreading his legs wide. John could see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans and all he wanted to do was bury his face there. But instead he sat between Brian’s legs at his request, facing away from him. He did owe him, after all.

Brian started slowly kissing John’s neck and he leaned back into it. It wasn’t long before he had John’s shirt off. Back came those hands with their calloused fingertips. John hummed lazily as they dragged over him. After leaving so many marks on Brain, John had half expected him to return the favor. But he was surprisingly gentle. Placing quick, loving pecks on every inch of skin he could reach. Grazing his teeth softly down the side of John’s jaw. It was relaxing. With just enough pressure to make John chew on his lower lip. He wondered if this was the type of pampering Brian gave to all his female lovers or if he was just being particularly careful.

The former was confirmed when he cupped John’s chest and fumbled for a moment before finding his nipples. As John groaned and let his head lull back on Brian’s shoulder, Brian chuckled and said,

“Sorry, I’m used to breasts being there.”

“Perfectly fine,” John managed. “But I am wondering about when you plan on following through with making me come.”

“Oh, yeah.” John could hear the smirk in Brian’s voice. He brought his hand away for a moment and spat in it. Then reached down and wrapped it around John’s prick.

It wasn’t long before John was seeing stars. With his head thrown back, he keened up into the touch. He could feel each individual finger as Brian squeezed them one by one down his prick in a wave, twisting as he hit the base. As he pulled up he slid the foreskin over the glans, squeezing John in his fist for all he was worth. And the worst of it was that he was so fucking _fast_ at it.

John tried to bite back the waves of pleasure that crashed over him. He twitched and writhed on top of Brian. Grunting and moaning through his teeth.

“Old Deaky’s holding back on me.” Brian growled. He sounded far too smug. John had half a mind to retort but instead found himself gasping. He felt the heat of Brian’s tongue slide up the side of his neck before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I love seeing you like this.” Brian said between kisses. “If I had a sixpence for every time I’ve thought about touching you like this… but this is so much better. You’re so fucking filthy. I wish I had a mirror so you could see yourself right now. You look completely fucked. You know that? You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

_Oh._

Brian’s free hand tweaked a nipple. “You’ve never been much of a singer though. I wonder if you’ll sing for me right now.”

This was too much. John had always thought Brian had had a way with words. But this was filthy. Disgusting. Exhilarating. John twisted his head around to meet Brian’s mouth. They wrestled tongues. Breathing into each other. John could tell it was becoming difficult for Brian to contain himself. He was grinding against John's lower back.

Just as John had decided he was going to twist around and give Brian the hardest fucking of his life, Brian’s free hand found his balls.

His hand enveloped them and squeezed. Two of his fingers pressed hard against that sweet spot just behind them. A bright white light flashed in John’s eyes. He howled as he came.

Brian held him tight through his orgasm. His grip on John’s prick tightened but slowed as John rocked through waves of pleasure. As he came down from the high Brian exalted him with kisses and praise.

“That’s it. God. What a sound, John. That was lovely.”

John was too tired to do anything at first. He sat back against Brian’s chest heaving, utterly spent. Brian gingerly let go of his prick and shimmied out from behind him. Neither of them said anything. John toppled over on the couch and curled up. After a few moments Brian was back and wiping his hands with a wet rag. He handed it off to John, who cleaned himself up. When Brian made to sit down he sat up. They didn’t look at each other for a moment. Then,

“Jesus I don’t think I can stand,” John chuckled. “And it’s not because of the alcohol.” Brian gave a nervous chuckle. He was back to chewing on what was left of his nails.

“Do you always talk that dirty during sex?” John asked, turning to face him. Brian looked up in surprise. Then his face broke out in a sheepish smile.

“Yes? I mean. I like to do it. Nobody’s told me not to.”

“Well I’m here to uphold the trend I suppose. That was… fantastic.” John moaned and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to say more. Wanted to shower Brian with praise about everything. His hands. His mouth. His soft skin. But he couldn’t find the words. He’d never really had a way with them. Leastways not off paper. All he could do was shiver as he realized this was all very real and he wasn’t just dreaming it.

“John,” Brian’s voice broke their silence.

“Mmm?” 

“Do you think maybe I could get some help?”

‘Wh- oh!” John looked over. He had completely forgotten that Brian had gone all this time untouched. The outline of his prick through his jeans had waned somewhat. He’d started to go flaccid.

John had a much clearer head now that he’d come. He was still slightly buzzed. But the intensity and bliss of their interaction had dulled his headache. His eyes raked over Brian. He was still shirtless. With his hair had frizzed out even more if that could have been thought possible. His neck was now showing several lines of hickeys and bite marks. And he was still pink in the face and looking quite frazzled.

John couldn’t help the devilish grin that split across his face.

“Alright there, Bri?”

“You know I’m not, you twat.” _If looks could kill…_

“That’s good.” John leaned in close for a kiss. It was sloppy. All sucking tongues and biting lips. Brian was more fun to get drunk off of than any booze, John found.

Just as Brian brought his hands up to hold either side of John’s face, John broke away. Much to Brian’s dismay.

“What are you doing?” He asked, bewildered as he watched John stand up.

“I’ve just remembered I have laundry I need to toss in the dryer.”

“You absolute cunt.” Brain stood up and made to push him. But John swerved away playfully. He reached out and grabbed Brain by his hips and ground into him, bare skin meeting denim. Brian had to stifle a moan in is hand.

“While I do that, why don’t you go settle yourself into my bed?” John asked him. He made sure to lower his voice into something just above a whisper. Deep and sure of itself. He could see bright new color blossoming across Brian’s nose. Brian tried to avert his gaze by looking down, but then seemed to suddenly remember that John was still stark naked. He chewed on his lip and looked even more uncomfortable than before. 

John thought it was kind of cute. Despite his small victory with the handjob, Brian was still out of his element. John came up on his toes and rested his forehead against Brian's. He wanted to relish this feeling of dominance.

“I’ll pay you back, for lunch and the hand job,” he whispered. “By fucking you witless.”

Brian’s breath hitched. He stiffened.

“John. _God._ ”

“Would you like that?”

Brian said nothing. John could see a wave of emotions flash behind his eyes. He was overthinking things again. That wouldn’t do.

“Bri, you’ve got to tell me. Remember? You set the pace. Now-” John bucked forward, grinding them together again, harder this time. Brian gasped. His eyes widened and finally fixed on John’s.

_That did the trick._

“Shall I fuck you?”

Brian bit his lip. He whimpered something.

“Sorry, what was that?” John was still grinding against him. He was being merciless. He couldn’t help it. He never thought he’d have a chance to do something like this. Not in a million years. Yet there they were. And he, John Deacon, was making this usually well-composed and reserved man whine like a schoolgirl. It was so hot John could already feel himself getting hard again.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” _What a cruel man you are, Deaky._

Suddenly Brian grabbed him by his upper arms and pulled him forward, nearly picking him up in the process. He brought their faces so close their noses were touching. It threw John off balance. He let go of Brian’s hips. Not that it mattered. Brian thrust forward into their seediest dry-hump yet as he grunted between his teeth.

“You heard me, damnit.” He spat. “Fuck me, John Deacon.”

John fell away from him grinning ear to ear. He'd cracked off a bit of that shell.

“I’ve got lube and condoms on the top shelf of the closet.” John said. “You mind fingering yourself a bit before I come ‘round?” He didn’t think Brian could have gotten any redder, but he was wrong.

“You’ve done it before yeah?” John asked. Brian bit his lip. He looked like was was mulling something over. Finally, he nodded quietly. “Good. Just enjoy yourself for a bit then. Don’t worry, I’ll try to be quick.” John smiled and began walking to the laundry room, enjoying the look on Brian’s face as he passed. Then an idea occurred to him. Something to make things more interesting.

“Bri?”

Brian gave a start. “Yeah?” His voice cracked slightly.

“Don’t touch your prick, please. Leave that to me.”

 

* * *

 

Just as John was pressing ‘start’ on the dryer he heard a long, low moan coming from down the hall. The sound was muffled. Maybe Brian had a hand over his mouth. John grinned.

He took his time making his way back to his bedroom. As the bedroom door came into view and he stopped. The door was cracked open wide enough for him to see in, and what a sight it was.

Brian was lying on his back with his left leg hiked up all the way to his chest. The other leg was splayed out wide. His body was twisted to accommodate his left hand, which was snaked around that hiked up leg and fingering his asshole.

John could feel the heat rushing to his face instantly. _Jesus._ He could see so fucking _much_ of Brian all at once. It was like watching a porno. How was Brian _that_ flexible?

John’s cock was at full attention. He crept forward, doing his best to stay out of sight. He wanted to watch this a little longer.

Brian didn’t seem to have any self control. His underwear was hanging precariously off one ankle. His two fingers slid in and out a little too fervently. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration and he chewed angrily on his lower lip.

John couldn’t help but wonder what he might be thinking about. Did the idea that John might be coming in at any moment give Brian a thrill? It certainly gave John a thrill thinking about it. 

Brian curled his fingers and John could tell he'd hit that sweet spot. He arched up away from the sheets. His teeth unlatched from his abused lower lip and clamped down on his free palm.

Another long moan. Louder this time.

John momentarily forgot how to breath.

Brian was much too good at this for it to have been his first time. John suspected with delight that he had probably been pleasuring himself like this for quite a while.

Brian was starting to look frustrated. Probably wondering where John was. John watched his free hand start to snake it’s way down his belly.

“I thought I told you not to touch your prick.”

Brian gave a start as he watched John stroll into the room. He immediately pulled his fingers away and sat up, crossing his legs. _Too reserved for his own good..._

John, on the other hand, could care less about being naked in front of anyone. He watched as Brian’s eyes raked over him, lingering at his cock. It gave him a nice feeling of power. Almost like performing for a crowd of people. But Brian's attention was really all he cared about now. 

“You took your time getting here, didn't you.” Brian chided.

“I was enjoying the show.”

Brian stared at him, blanching. But John didn’t want to give him any more time to think on it. He pounced, toppling the two of them over on the sheets. Brian’s skin was so soft. Every inch of him was like kissing silk.

He took no time using his mouth to scope out every inch of skin he could reach. He went from collarbone, to nipples, to belly, and back up again just to be a tease. Brian was back to moaning into his own palm. The other hand found John's hair. John clasped his hands on either side of his hips, holding him steady. Brian opened for him, melting into the sheets. 

Down the rib cage his mouth went again, leaving a wet trail behind. Over the belly with a sprinkling of kisses. He traced Brian’s hip-bones gently with his teeth and felt every moan and sigh vibrate through him. It was exhilarating. Honestly the most gratified John had felt in ages.

As he neared Brian’s cock he looked up at him. What a sight it was. Brian was breathing heavy. A sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead and John could see stray curls sticking to it. His mouth was open wide enough against his palm that John could see the pink of his tongue. Was he… drooling?

John gulped. Coming once had helped him maintain some composure up to this point. But at this rate his brain might reduce to jelly. Brian’s hand was still knotted in John's hair. He pushed down, practically begging John to suck the cock between those skinny legs.

John dropped his head. He flattened his tongue against the base of Brian’s cock and gave a long, hard lick from shaft to tip. Brian bucked up into him, grunting. John grabbed Brian’s prick by the base to steady him and did it again. This time circling his tongue around the glans for good measure.

“Fuck. John. Are you you jus’ gonna tease me?” Brian’s voice cracked.

“You’ve no idea how much I want you to choke me with this.” John had his lips pressed against Brian’s shaft as he said it. He wanted Brian to feel every word.

Brian made a strangled sound. He brought both his hands up to cover his eyes.

“Do I get to, then?”

“No. Because I told you you’re getting fucked. And if I suck you off you’ll be finished in seconds.” John pulled away and heard Brian whimper.

“Not to worry, love.” John smiled “Just getting the lube.” He reached over to where it was lying on the mattress and snatched it up. He spared a glance over as he unscrewed the cap. Brian was watching him. He looked dazed. John suddenly felt a bit pitious.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” He asked. Brian shook his head.

“Not sex with a bloke, no. I’ve fingered myself plenty of times.”

“Well, you’re quite good at it.” They cracked smiles at each other.

“Allright,” John brandished his lubed fingers. “It if hurts, say so. Otherwise we’ll move along when I think you’re good and ready.”

“I’ll be dead by then, I’m sure.”

John chuckled. He pressed his fingers against Brian’s opening. Two went in without any issue. Brian’s breathing fluttered. His eyes screwed shut again. He was back to chewing on his lower lip. John arched forward and pressed their lips together. 

They kissed gently. John could feel every hitch in Brian’s breath has he scissored his fingers inside him. It was a bit tricky for John. He was balanced precariously above Brian, clinging to one of his knees for support. It made him slower with his hand movements. He pistoned his fingers slowly, trying to feel every bit of Brian he could. He could feel Brian rocking beneath him, impatiently pressing back.

_If you insist._

Brian clenched instinctively when he felt the invasion of a third finger. But he quickly relaxed into it. John took his time working Brian open, pulling his fingers almost all the way out before diving back in. Every single sound and curse that passed Brian’s lips had his heart pounding.

John broke their kiss and nestled his face into the crook of Brian’s neck. Brain adjusted as well. He hoisted his hips up so John could have easier purchase. John could taste the salt of Brian’s sweat as he sucked the umpteenth hickey into his skin.

A fourth finger slid in; just for safety's sake. To John's surprise there was barely any trouble. Brian only sighed into it and let the feeling take him away. A thought occurred to John. 

"You're awfully easy," He teased kisses over Brian's collar bone.

"Yeah?" Brian's lidded eyes were trying to focus. 

"Are you sure you've only just fingered yourself, Bri?" John relished the look of surprise he got. Brian pursed his lips in a guilty expression.

"You can tell me," John cooed. "No shame in it." On his last words he curled his fingers up as he pressed in. Brian swore and bucked up so hard John's fingers nearly came clean out. 

"M-maybe I've bought a few toys," Brian managed. _A few?_ John wagered that whatever Brian was going through with Chrissie, it must have been going on for a lot longer than he let on.

"My my, Bri. I never took you for such a dirty one." John bit another bruise into that soft skin and Brian's breath hitched. He looked like he was trying to feel embarrassed. But it was clear he was beyond that point. 

"Maybe sometime you can show them to me." John continued, letting his voice drop low. He made sure to press his fingers in as deep as they would go. "I'd love to use them with you."

John had half expected Brian to whine. But what he got was so much better. 

"And I'd love to share them. But right now I'd rather you fuck me till I scream." Brian seemed not to realize what he'd said at first. When he did he bit his lip. It seemed his dirty talk went two ways. 

It gave John an idea. 

When he was sure Brian was good and ready, he pulled away. Brian's needy sigh was positively delicious. John made a show out of rolling a condom over his cock and lubing it up. He couldn’t help it. Brian was literally shaking with anticipation.

“What was that again, Bri?” John asked. He settled himself between Brain’s legs and continued to stroke himself.

“What?” Brian blinked. He tore his hungry eyes away from John’s cock. “What’d I say?”

“You know.” John smiled, “Something about you and me.”

“You mean how I want you to fuck me?”

“Yeah, that’d be it.” John guided his cock to Brian’s opening. “Just relax. Take a deep breath.” Brian did so. And on the exhale John pushed in slowly.

“Oh _god_.” Brian wasn’t even tense. In fact he seemed to go limp the further John pressed inside of him. “Oh _god_. John.”

John almost laughed. He knew what Brian was feeling. There would be a bit of a sting at first. But then the burn from the stretch would set in and make you forget. Till all you could feel was a fullness and a raw need.

The heat that was enveloping John was almost unbearable. He hadn’t felt the warmth of another person in a good long while.

He grabbed Brian’s hips, pulled almost completely out, and thrust back in as slowly as he could manage. Brian whined. His loudest one yet. John could feel himself going cross-eyed. There was a more visceral side of him fighting to take over. He wanted to pound Brian into the sheets for all he was worth. But he had to keep his composure for another plan he had in mind.

He thrust again. Pulling out at a snail’s pace and going back in the same. After a few more times Brian began to fidget. He started using his elbows as leverage to push back. John put a stop to this by bringing his hand up and gently fondling Brian’s balls. Any strength Brian had had vanished and he collapsed against the bed again with a whine.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been teased this much by anyone in my life.” Brian sighed. “Maybe if I was fucking Freddie I would have expected as much. But you?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself is all,” If John hadn’t been concentrating so hard he might have smirked. “But there is something that I think might help things along.”

“And that is?”

“I seem to recall you having a bit of a dirty mouth. Maybe you should try telling me what you want me to do.”

“Is that all?” Brian’s response was breathy. John could tell he was going senseless. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be milking him like this. It was his first time after all. After a few silent thrusts of them just staring at each other John was about to start speeding up out of pity. But then,

“I want you to be rough with me.”

“Oh?” John thrust sharply up into Brian. They both gasped. “How rough?”

“Rough.” Brian repeated. “Rough with your hands. Rough with your cock. Fuck me rough.”

John was picking up the pace. The heat enveloping him was intoxicating. Brain was speaking rapidly, his confidence growing. 

"Fuck, yeah. Just like that. _God_ I never knew I needed this so fucking much. John. _Shit._ "

John leaned forward, hanging on Brian's every word, digging his fingernails into his skin for good measure.

"You're so good, John. This feels so fucking good. I wish I'd thought to do this sooner.  _Shit._ John. I’m such a fucking slut for you."

John raised his eyebrows. 

"Really?" He panted. Brian had his palms pressed to his eyes again. He nodded. 

"Sometimes... Sometimes when I touch myself I think of your hands on me and I…” They were breathing heavy now. John could feel every muscle in his body tensing.

“Yeah?”

“I think about you. Touching me. And biting me. And pulling my hair.” Then Brian did something that shocked John. He hoisted his legs up and rested his ankles on John’s shoulders. It gave John full access to his ass.

John’s mind was running wild trying to comprehend what was happening. Nobody had ever done this before. But then again nobody had ever been as flexible as Brian. He leaned forward, forcing Brian’s legs back against his chest. The new angle made Brian howl.

"Oh, _GOD_ , John. Yes! Just like this. _Fuck_. Fuck me harder.” Brian's hands found John’s hair again. His nimble fingers twisted and pulled, bringing John into a sloppy kiss. As John arched forward Brian's calves slid over John's shoulders until his knees were nearly on either side of John's head. 

John was gone then. He railed down into Brian, crushing him into the mattress. The rest of the world was completely blotted out by the rush of blood in his ears, the slap of skin on skin, and Brain’s loud string of curses.

They clung to each other. Fingers digging bruises. Mouths sucking and biting raw.

As John felt his orgasm coming on he wedged his hand between the two of them and took Brian's cock in his fist. Brian wailed. His ass seized around John’s cock and that was all it took.

John threw his head back and came with a soundless cry on his lips. As the waves of pleasure rocked him he felt Brian’s legs fall from his shoulders. He tugged at Brian’s cock until Brian spasmed and shot cum over his belly.

John collapsed on top of him. The two of them a shaking, sweaty mess.

After a while, when both their breathing had returned to normal. John managed to roll himself over. Brian winced as he pulled out. John was exhausted. After tying off the condom and throwing it to the floor he found himself wrapping his arms around Brian, pulling him close. Force of habit.

Brain, thankfully, said nothing. The two of them dozed for a time. When their cooling sweat made them shiver John pulled his blanket up around them.

He was completely sober now. He could feel his headache returning. His lips and mouth were dry from dehydration. He was utterly spent. Exhausted.

After some time had passed, Brain cleared his throat.

“I don’t know what to do now.” He said.

“What do you mean?” John asked sleepily.

“Well… I’ve been thinking for some time I haven’t fancied Chrissie. A long time, actually. I’ve always sort of liked other guys in my own way I guess. So maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised by this.”

“Didn’t you admit to using toys and masturbating to thoughts of me?”

“Yeah, well…” Brian fidgeted. “In your head it's different, isn’t it? This is real. It’s just happened. I’ve no clue what I should do about it.”

“Bri,”

“Hm?”

John tilted his head up and kissed Brian.

“You think too much, love. Always have.” He smiled up at Brian. “You think too much about this you’ll go mad. Give it time. Let things take their course. It’ll work out.”

Brian chewed on his lower lip.

“That’s how you deal with things then? You just sort of… let the chips fall where they may?”

John tucked himself back under Brian's chin and patted his chest affectionately.

“Not exactly. We’ve all got to make decisions for the sake of our own happiness. And those decisions can be hard sometimes. I’m just telling you not to take things so seriously. This isn’t something you need to overthink.” His patting had turned to drawing circles over Brian's skin. “Maybe, you know, just explore it some more until you’re sure. Have a bit of fun instead of fretting over every little thing.”

“You think I fret over every little thing?”

“Don’t you?”

“Fair point.”

They dozed together for a bit longer. John didn't want this comfortable silence to end. He'd been craving the after sex hubris almost as much as he'd been craving sex. It was nostalgic. It reminded him of happier, more carefree times. But John could feel Brian getting restless next to him. With a pang of disappointment, John let Brian sit up.

“I’d say it’s about time I started on dinner.” Brian sighed, scratching at his lower back. “You think Fred or Rog will be home soon?”

“Rog maybe. I wouldn’t bet on Fred.” John curled into a ball in the blankets. He didn't want to be reminded that there were still hours left in the day. 

“Do you mind helping me cook then?”

John did mind. His head was aching.

“Not at all. Just tell me what to do.”

“Allright.” Brian made to stand but stumbled and fell back on the bed.

“Jesus,” He laughed. “I’m still shaking from that.” John lazily unfurled himself and crept up behind him, planting a kiss on his neck.

“Was it good?” John asked, smiling.

“It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had, yeah.” Brian ran his fingers through John’s hair.

“It was really good for me too.” John nuzzled deeper into Brian’s neck. Something about Brian's skin and his scent made John want to swim in him. “I loved making you beg.” Brian elbowed him. He fell back on the mattress giggling.

“Tosser.” Brian grunted. He stood up again, successfully this time.

“I’m off to the shower,” Brian waved over his shoulder. John enjoyed the view of his ass as he gingerly made his way out of the room.

Brian stopped at the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at John.

“D’you uh…” He fumbled. “I supposed we could save some water eh?” John grinned. Maybe it was worth it to get out of bed after all. 

“I s’pose we could!” He said. “You go get it started. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Brian’s smile was nervous, but excited. As he left John sighed and sat up in bed.

Being on tour wasn’t easy. After tomorrow’s show there was another the next night, and then off to the next city the day after that. Always moving. But at least maybe now things would be a bit less lonely. He couldn’t wait to tell Veronica the news.

 

* * *

 

_"Oh my god, John, I've found it! It was here the whole time!"_

_"Found what, Roger?"_

_"School Girl! My old tape! The one I've been missing for ages!"_

_"Is that so? Where'd it turn up, then?"_

_"Underneath my pillow. This whole time. Literally underneath my nose. I can't believe it. Can you?"_

_"No, I can't."_

_"Shall I pop it in then? It's really a must-see."_

_"I'm good thanks, Rog."_

_"Suit yourself... Under my pillow. Can't believe it. 5 years and it's under my bloody pillow in Munich. Woah! Alright there, Bri? You look like you've been having a good time. How many hickeys is that?"_

_"Fuck off, Rog."_

**Author's Note:**

> **Today’s drink:**
> 
> **The Best Friend**  
>  _John’s Go-To Care Bear Movie Cocktail_  
>  3 ounces of Gin (90 ml or 2 shots)  
> 1 cup Champaign (140 ml)  
> A “wad” of cotton candy/fairy floss (mixer’s choice)
> 
> “Cheapo” Variant  
> 4 ounces of Gin or Marshmallow Vodka  
> 1 Cup Cotton Candy Faygo
> 
> Either drink can be chilled with ice or frozen blueberries. Put the ice in the glass first, then add the gin. Top with cotton candy. Pour the champagne over top and watch the cotton candy disappear! Give it a gentle stir to combine. 
> 
> (Drink responsibly pls)


End file.
